How long have you been battling that sin? How long have you been struggling to find peace with that trauma? How long have you been enduring that sorrow? In some way each of us carries a heavy load through this life. In some way each of us finds it a long marathon more than a brief sprint. In some way each of us is called to endure with fortitude, even for a very long time.

Yet we must never stop believing that God is capable of hearing our pleas and providing the help we long for. It is possible that we, like Jacob, may be called to bear a limp to the end. But it’s also possible that we, like Naaman, may be completely set free. God may glorify himself through our endurance or he may glorify himself through our deliverance. We see this poignantly in the account of a man who had suffered grievously for the better part of his life. And yet he learned that he had never been beyond God’s healing touch.
In John 5 we are told of a man who had been unable to walk for 38 years. Thirty-eight years! For nearly four decades he had been an invalid, and this in a culture that was not known for its mercy toward the suffering. Day by day he had tried to take advantage of a mystical cure and day by day he had failed, for no one had been willing to offer him help. His every chance had been snatched from him.
One day Jesus walked by the place where this desperate man was trying to be cured. Jesus asked him the most obvious of questions: “Do you want to be healed?” This was like asking a bleeding man if he wanted a bandage, like asking a starving man if he wanted a hamburger, like asking a destitute man if he wanted a house and a car. Of course he did! He answered in the affirmative and told why it had so far proven impossible. Then Jesus said the simple words, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at that very moment, the man was not merely cured, but fully healed, completely strengthened. For the first time in nearly 40 years he stood up in his own strength. He stood up healed and whole.
Have you ever wondered by John chose to tell how many years this man had been afflicted? Don’t you think it’s most plausible that he chose to provide that detail so we would marvel at the degree of God’s healing? A man who had been paralyzed for a week might be said to have recovered naturally. A man who had been paralyzed for a year might be said to have retained some of his ability, some of his strength, so that it was no great feat to stand and walk. But a man who had been paralyzed for 38 years would have muscles that were atrophied, ligaments that were tightened, bones that were weakened. He could no more stand than an infant. Under normal circumstances he would need reconstructive surgery and years of therapy to be able to do so much as take a step. And yet in one moment he was fully healed, completely restored, as good as new. And the only plausible explanation was that God had acted sovereignly and powerfully.
It seems to me that God often prefers to work with what is most broken. He loves to display his power with what has been most shattered. He loves to contrast the heights of his strength with the depths of our weakness. He loves to prove that none of us is beyond the reach of his grace. None of us is any more beyond his help than was this 40-year invalid.
While we should never minimize what is truly tragic, whether infirmity, bereavement, or trauma, we should also ensure we do not allow the severity of our tragedies and the length with which we’ve borne them to diminish our confidence that God can bring relief and healing. And so we do well to ask: How deep is that habit of sin? How grievous the memory of that trauma? How great the grief of that sorrow? Is it more immovable than legs that had been frozen in place for 38 years? Is it more substantial than muscles that had atrophied since the equivalent of 1984? Is it more fixed and constant than nearly four decades of disuse and decay? If God healed that man’s legs and feet, could he not soothe our broken hearts, calm our troubled souls, fix our sinful habits?
Sometimes it best serves God’s purposes to leave us in our weakness, for it is in this state that he can best prove himself to be our strength. Yet sometimes it best serves God’s purposes to interrupt long suffering and reward long praying with a demonstration of his power. It is no sin and no contradiction to long and pray for the latter even while persisting through the former. All the while we can be confident that whether through endurance or through restoration, God has ignored no prayer and made no mistake. We can be completely certain that, when faith turns to sight, we will judge it all good and very good.

The God of love and peace be with you on this fine day.

There’s quite an extensive list of Kindle deals to check out today.
Logos users have one more chance to vote for a winner in March Matchups.
(Yesterday on the blog: When “All Things” Don’t Feel So Good)
To Ben on World Down Syndrome Day
I loved Andrea’s tribute to Ben on World Down Syndrome Day. “You stay the same, but you are constantly changing others. Your positive influence on people cannot be overstated. You, in your weakness, have had a greater impact on your world than many of us with advanced degrees and strong skill sets.”
Every Story needs Tension
Every good story needs some tension to be interesting and fulfilling. But as Peter Muturi asks, “Why is it then that we like our stories to be flat? To get all our prayers answered the way we want, when we want and how we want them. To move from point A to Z on a straight line.”
Expressive Individualism in the Church
The new issue of the 9Marks Journal is all about expressive individualism. There are lots of good articles and reviews to read!
Please Waste Some of Your Prayers
George Sinclair encourages you to regularly “waste” your prayers on those you deem unlikely to repent and believe.
That Bible Book You Don’t Like and What to Do About It
“Here’s a question you may not be asked very often: what’s your least favorite book of the Bible? Which book do you avoid reading, or skim over lightly when it shows up in your Bible reading plan? Which book confuses you, frustrates you, or (let’s be honest) bores you?” This article tells you what to do about it.
Do blogs still matter?
Aaron Armstrong: “But blogs… they don’t matter anymore. Or at least we don’t think they do. They’re slow; unlike social media, they take you out of the moment. You can’t have an instant reaction on a blog. They take a lot of work. They require a kind of thoughtfulness, at least in theory, the kind that plays against all the algorithms.”
Flashback: 8 Ways God Turns Temptations to Blessings
The more furiously Satan tempts, the more fervently the saint prays. A running deer sprints as soon as it discerns the presence of the hunter and, in the same way, the soul that comes under fire from Satan’s darts runs faster to the throne of grace.

Wise is that Christian parent who begins every morning with the word of God and fervent prayer. —Theodore Cuyler

You can only imagine what Joseph’s family thought. You can only imagine what the townsfolk thought. You can only imagine what the religious leaders thought. You can only imagine the laughter and the mocking, the rumors and the gossip, the scolding and the censure. And maybe we should imagine it.

“Does he really expect us to believe that he wasn’t the one who got Mary pregnant?” “I’ve heard lots of excuses in my time, but never ‘I was overshadowed by the Holy Spirit.’” “I heard that it wasn’t her first time, either.” “I heard she got attacked when she was out drawing water.”
The fact is, those people would be no more likely to believe her explanation than we would be if someone fed it to us today. And those people would have been no less eager to propose some more likely explanations. Those people weren’t so different from us, though they may have lived at a very different time and in a very different context.
We can hardly blame Joseph for wanting to walk away—to walk away from the mocking, from the gossip, from the shame. We can hardly blame him for resolving to divorce her. We can hardly blame him for wanting to extricate himself from betrothal to a woman who was clearly no virgin. He, after all, was a just man and an innocent one. So at least he planned to do it quietly.
It took nothing less than divine intervention to get him to stay. “An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit’” (Matthew 1:20). When Joseph awoke he remembered the dream, he accepted it as God’s own revelation, and he received it as God’s own instruction. He set aside all thought of divorce, he took Mary as his wife, and he raised her son as his own.
Imagine Mary’s joy, Mary’s relief, Mary’s sense of comfort and well-being when Joseph told her he loved her, he believed her, and he accepted her. Imagine Mary’s gratitude when Joseph stood beside her and said “My wife,” when he took that baby in his arms and said, “My son.” Imagine how his obedience impacted Mary, how his faith blessed his wife, how his love made all the difference.
We can be certain the gossip did not end the day Joseph declared, “I believe her.” We can be certain people were no more convinced by his dream than her visitation. The gossip did not turn to acceptance simply because he added his testimony to hers. Rather, I suspect it increased all the more. “I can’t believe he’s so naive.” “I guess he can’t come up with a better explanation than a dream.” “If this isn’t proof that he’s the one who got her pregnant I don’t know what is!”
But Joseph was a man of faith, a man who chose to believe God’s word and obey God’s direction, a man whose decision to accept Mary was also a decision to share her shame. But he knew that God had spoken, he knew what God had spoken, and nothing would dissuade him, nothing would compel him to reject what God had made abundantly clear.
And as I listened to this familiar passage during my morning devotions, a passage I’ve heard hundreds or even thousands of times, I found myself praying, “God, thank you for Joseph. And please give me the faith of Joseph. Give me the faith to listen attentively to your Word, give me the faith to believe it even when it cuts hard against my presuppositions, give me the faith to apply it even when it’s especially difficult. Let me be like Joseph. Give me a faith like his.”